Remus woke up to see a familiar face hovering over his and staring at him intently. "Why are you staring at me, Professor?" he mumbled.

Professor Questus backed up, but did not stop staring. "Because you're ill and I was tending to you. Obviously. How are you feeling? And no sarcastic comments this time, please."

"Sarcastic comments?" Remus couldn't remember making any sarcastic comments. Well... not recently, anyhow. "I'm fine."

Questus frowned. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Remus crinkled his nose and thought back as far as he could. "Oh, going to the Quidditch game with James and Sirius and Peter. Where's my scarf?" He looked down, but did not see it. "My dad made that for me! Where is it? Did I lose it? Did I get hit by a stray Bludger or something? Where's Madam Pomfrey?"

Oh, Madam Pomfrey. The Shrieking Shack. The werewolf stakeout. Ending up in the Hospital Wing... waiting for the moon to rise... waking up to Questus and his weird sense of humor and hearing that Madam Pomfrey'd had a busy morning... walking back to the castle. "Oh. That was weeks ago, wasn't it, the Quidditch game? I remember now. Sarcastic comment. Living the dream. Okay."

"Yes, you haven't been conscious very much today. It's four in the afternoon. I imagine you're hungry; I'll get you some food in a moment."

"What happened to me last night?"

"Well, you transformed into a beast and attacked yourself all night by the light of the full moon."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Who's making sarcastic comments now?"

"I am your teacher, Lupin, not your friend. A little respect, please."

Remus colored a little at that. He hadn't meant to be disrespectful, but his filter was always on the fritz around the full moon. Besides, it wasn't fair of Questus to make comments like that and expect Remus not to reciprocate. What had he expected? Had he expected Remus to laugh or something? It hadn't been very funny. "Sorry. I'm sorry," said Remus. "I mean, how injured am I?"

"Your left arm, right above the elbow. I missed it while I was healing you in the Shack. It's pretty bad."

"That's it?"

"Obviously, no. But that's the worst of it. I am rather good at healing, you know. Auror and all that."

Remus pushed up his sleeve to examine his arm, which was wrapped up much more tightly than Madam Pomfrey had ever done. "Do I need to take any potions?"

"Gave you some this morning, and then more around noon while you were unconscious. You're okay for now."

"All right," said Remus. "I'm sorry."

"You've been saying that all day. What, exactly, are you sorry for?"

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it to consider. He'd thought that it was rather obvious, but he couldn't really put it into words. "Just... you're going through a lot of trouble, to keep me here. You and Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore and all the others. I'm just... is it worth it? For one student? I feel awful. It's not even as if I'm particularly gifted at magic. It's not as if I'll do anything noteworthy or special in the future. This might be all for nothing. So what good am I, being here, if I'm causing more trouble than good? I feel as if I owe you all an apology, that's all."

Questus seemed a little taken aback. "How much have you been thinking about that?"

"Haven't thought about it. Just known it."

"Hm," said Questus. He sat down in the chair across from Remus' bed and rubbed at his whiskers, evidently thinking very hard. "Well. You're right, you probably won't do much in the future. You are gifted—no, don't interrupt me. You're quite gifted, but not the most gifted wizard of your age I've ever seen. You don't even make the top fifteen. And you are a lot of trouble—Filch is substituting for my double fourth-year Defense class this evening."

"Filch?!"

"Yes. I've set textbook reading and paper assignments; all he has to do is watch them. No qualifications necessary. But it's obviously not ideal, and it's more or less your fault. But it's as I said before. You should take every opportunity that comes your way, seeing as you won't be getting many. And I daresay some professors here enjoy your company and will be sad to see you leave come seventh year, those sentimental idiots."

It made sense that Questus thought sentimental people to be stupid: Remus couldn't really imagine Questus expressing any emotion but disdain, disappointment, dry amusement, and indifference.

"You honestly think I'm going to make it to seventh year?" Remus asked. He'd never even allowed himself to hope that he would, not for more than a few seconds. But if Questus thought so...

"You think you're going to die or something?"

"No, I think that someone is going to find out about me and I'm going to have to leave."

"Oh. Well, someone's going to find out about you. It's inevitable," said Questus, effectively crushing every ounce of hope that Remus had. "But Dumbledore could talk anyone into anything, and I find that I often have that talent as well. But... you're right. Anything could happen. Seven years is a long shot. Secrecy is important, and it's not wise to stay when more than a couple people know. It would also, of course, be immensely uncomfortable. So I suppose it all depends on your willingness to stay, knowing that another student is aware of your lycanthropy... personally, I don't see you doing that, but I'll concede that you're annoyingly unpredictable at times."

Remus nodded slowly. "Do you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"You use the same pattern every time you talk to me. First you say something harsh and tactless, and then you follow it up with something nice. Then sometimes you end it with something harsh again."

Questus scoffed. "I am not nice. I am objective."

"Is this another Slytherin-manipulating thing? Because it works pretty well. I believe you every time you talk to me like that."

"Let me get this straight, Lupin," said Questus, speaking very slowly as if Remus was very stupid. "You think I'm manipulating you, you acknowledge the fact, and then you let yourself be manipulated? In what world is that a good decision?"

"I don't think you're doing it on purpose, sir," said Remus, shaking his head. "I just think it gives the best results, so you subconsciously continue to do it. I don't think you're lying; I just think it's an efficient way of phrasing a sentence."

Questus blinked. "You're clever."

"Thank you." Truth was, Remus didn't care if he was being manipulated. Compliments from Questus, he knew, had to be true—so every time he received one he absolutely lit up inside. Sort of. Sometimes they made him feel kind of terrible.

Suddenly, Remus heard Madam Pomfrey calling for Questus from across the room—but her scent was missing completely. That was unnatural. "Madam Pomfrey!" he exclaimed. "I hear her. But how is she... she's not here, where is she..."

"Floo," responded Questus simply as he walked to the fireplace. "Pomfrey, everything's fine."

"Please tell me he's awake," came Madam Pomfrey's worried voice. "People should not be unconscious for this long. I'm coming back as soon as I can..." Madam Pomfrey sounded more panicked than Remus had ever heard her. She was normally so calm, but now she sounded afraid. Remus felt very guilty all of the sudden. Why couldn't he have just stayed awake?

"Calm down," snapped Questus. "He's awake. He's fine. And he's listening in to our conversation. Very rude, might I add." Questus turned around to look at Remus, who was feeling even more guilty and probably looking very surprised. "I'm joking, Lupin, don't look at me like that. He's fine, Pomfrey. Lupin, tell Pomfrey that you're fine."

"I... can't," said Remus apologetically. "Madam Pomfrey gets angry with me when I say that."

Questus turned back to Pomfrey. "Doubt you could hear that all the way from the Floo, but he says that your odd habit of censoring his descriptive words prohibits him from telling the truth."

Madam Pomfrey made an odd sort of choking noise. "Right. Yes. I think I can make an exception, just this once."

"I'm fine," said Remus. "Absolutely fine. In no pain at all."

"See, Pomfrey? He's fine; he just told me so. Stay away as long as you need."

"And you're not delirious, Remus?" called Madam Pomfrey. Remus wasn't sure he liked it when Madam Pomfrey called him by his first name. It usually meant that she was pitying him.

"I don't think so," he said.

"He was mumbling something earlier about forks and soap," corrected Questus. "But I think he's all right now."

Remus leaned to the side a little so that he could see Madam Pomfrey's face in the fire. Her brows were creased. "Yes, he mentioned something about cannons yesterday," she said. "Do you remember that, Remus?"

Remus smiled, a little embarrassed. "I do, actually. I wasn't delirious; just had no filter at the time. Cannons to left of them, cannons to right of them, cannons behind them, volleyed and thundered...?"

"Yes, that's it," said Madam Pomfrey, looking a bit surprised. "Why on earth were you babbling about cannons?"

"It's Tennyson. 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'. A poem."

"What was the one about forks and soap, then?" asked Questus, looking quite amused.

"Probably 'The Hunting of the Snark'. Lewis Carroll. I don't know the whole thing; it's pretty long. But there are a few parts that I know quite well."

"So... why...?"

"I stayed at home a lot as a kid," explained Remus. "Had to do something to amuse myself, and rhythm calms me down."

"You," said Questus, "are the oddest werewolf I've ever met."

"Food, John. Get him food," Madam Pomfrey prompted.

Questus rolled his eyes. "Already did. What do you take me for? There's some toast on your bedside table, Lupin. But you already knew that, hm? Enhanced senses and all."

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be here today, Remus," continued Madam Pomfrey. "I had to take a girl to the Hospital Wing; she was badly poisoned by a poorly-made potion. I can't leave her here alone, and her parents can't come, either... The Healers are thinking of keeping her overnight for observation. I'm so sorry; I had no idea it would take this long..."

"It's okay," said Remus, taking a bite of his toast. "I'm all right. Take as much time as you need."

"He says he's all right," said Questus.

Remus wondered for a second why Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear him from the flames—after all, he could hear her perfectly fine—but then he realized that he was a werewolf with a superhuman sense of hearing. The thought was isolating, and it made Remus feel even more embarrassed than he already was... but it was no more embarrassing than being caught reciting rhyming nonsense on two separate occasions.

"What is it with you two?" asked Madam Pomfrey, sounding quite exasperated. "Every other word I hear out of your mouths is something along the lines of okay, all right, or fine. Are you both completely incapable of using properly descriptive language?" She shook her head. "Have fun, then. And John, don't forget..."

Questus rolled his eyes. "To make sure he's eating? To change the dressings on his arm tonight? To give him another Blood-Replenishing Potion before eight pm? Yes, I know, you've been Flooing me every hour. Don't forget that I'm..."

"...an Auror who knows Healing Magic almost as well as I do. I know. I disagree, but I know that's what you think. John, don't forget to give him water."

"Right. And after that, I'll give him a treat and take him for a walk. He's not a dog, Pomfrey."

Remus bristled. That one hit a little too close to home. "I can do it myself; I know the Water-Conjuring Charm," he said.

"He said that he can do it himself," said Questus.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I know you can do the charm, Remus. I've seen you practicing, and it's very impressive," she said. "But no magic. You hear that, John? No magic, Remus. Not with the strain you're under."

"What? That's not fair at all!" cried Remus.

"He says it's not fair," said Questus.

"You heard me," said Madam Pomfrey. "You are under strict orders to rest. And no reading, either..."

"Why not?!"

"...because I don't know what kind of injuries you sustained last night, and I don't want to take the risk if it's a magical head injury of sorts—which seems likely."

"I do suppose that one's brain completely reforming in under a minute could do some strange things to cognitive functions," mused Questus. "Not to mention your head was bleeding rather badly earlier today. You should have seen it, Pomfrey. Absolutely gruesome scene. Didn't know that werewolves could do all that to themselves when isolated..."

"Stop talking about such things," said Madam Pomfrey very harshly (and a little bit tearily, if Remus wasn't mistaken). "You're bothering me, and you're going to bother Remus, too..."

But Remus wasn't bothered. He was still hung up on the fact that he wasn't allowed to read. How would he survive? "What am I supposed to do, then?" he asked. "I can't just... sit here for hours upon hours! Madam Pomfrey—"

"You're acting childish," interjected Questus. Remus felt his face grow hot.

"I'm sorry," he said. And he was... but still! No reading and no magic left Remus absolutely nothing. Was he just supposed to nap or something? He couldn't nap for that long!

Questus rolled his eyes again and then turned to Pomfrey. "It'd be nice if you could wrap this up, Pomfrey. I've got work to do, in case you've forgotten."

Madam Pomfrey made a reluctant noise of agreement. "I'll see you both... most likely tomorrow," she said. "And don't..."

"Let him die," finished Questus.

"Overexert myself," mumbled Remus.

"Forget to give him water," said Questus.

"Read or do magic," said Remus.

"Have any fun whatsoever," said Questus. Remus laughed a little at that, and Questus winked slightly. That was surprising.

"Oh, be serious." Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows were still crinkled in a worried sort of way. "Feel better soon," she added before disappearing from the flames.

As soon as she was gone, Remus sank back onto his pillow and sighed dramatically. Questus did not acknowledge his pain.

He tapped his fingers on the bedsheets.

He took deep, cleansing breaths.

He watched the clock on the wall.

He listened to it tick.

He was bored.

"I guess I just go back to sleep, then?" Remus said, effectively breaking the awkward silence. "Seeing as there's nothing else to do."

Questus sat down and opened a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Finish your toast."

"Right." Remus munched his toast mournfully. Today was going to be awful. He felt terrible. His head felt rather like the Giant Squid. His arms felt like someone had hacked them off with an ax, removed the bones, and then sewn them back on haphazardly before sticking them in ice until they were numb. His wrists were difficult to move, and he couldn't quite make a fist. There was no serious pain, thanks to the potions, but he just felt overall icky.

He finished off his toast and drank the water slowly, trying to work it past his numbed lips without spilling. "What if someone else comes into the Hospital Wing?" he asked Questus. He didn't care if he was bothering Questus: Remus was bored, and the silence was deafening.

"Someone did," Questus said as he idly flipped the page of the newspaper. "A girl who had transfigured both ears into noodles. I set her straight. Then there was a boy who'd fallen off of his broom. Didn't take much to help him, either."

"Would've loved to see the looks on their faces when they saw you standing in for Madam Pomfrey," said Remus under his breath, and Questus snorted.

"Yes, it was rather humorous. The girl asked me if I was going to start wearing her apron. I nearly didn't heal her for that little comment."

Remus laughed a little. Then he suddenly remembered something. "Professor... do you know where Bufo is?" he asked. Bufo was usually right there when Remus arrived inside Madam Pomfrey's office after every full moon, but now he was gone. Remus hadn't seen him at all that morning. Bufo had been Remus' only friend before Remus had come to Hogwarts (besides his parents) and now Remus had lost him! He was so irresponsible.

"That toad?" said Questus. He sounded amused, which wasn't an appropriate tone of voice at all for this Very Serious Situation. "No. Noticed he was gone earlier."

"What? You didn't look for him?"

Questus looked up from his newspaper and gave Remus a dark look. "Well, I was a little preoccupied."

"What if he's hurt?" Remus felt awful. "He was my responsibility; I shouldn't have let him get away."

"Oh, do be quiet," said Questus, surprising Remus with the ferocity of his tone. "That's getting annoying. You were bleeding to death and unconscious. I don't very well know what else you could have done. Your toad will be back, probably. Toads run away all the time; usually end up in the Black Lake with the other toads. And he's far better off there than hopping around a small room with an injured werewolf. Calm down."

Remus leaned back and closed his eyes. Perhaps he could hear Bufo breathing if he was still enough. Nothing. He inhaled a couple of times, hoping to catch a whiff of toad. Nothing. There were no small croaks. There were no contented ribbits. There were no faint, plodding hops. There was only the sound of his own heartbeat... Questus'... the sounds of two people breathing... the clock... but no toad.

After a few moments, Remus heard Questus inhale sharply as if to speak. "What are you doing now, Lupin?"

"Trying to hear him. Could you stop breathing, Professor?"

"You're asking me to die? I didn't know you disliked me that much."

"No, just stop breathing. For a couple of seconds."

Questus obeyed, and Remus listened. He heard students in the corridor. He heard some commotion from the Great Hall—it was probably supper already. He did not hear the breathing of a small amphibian. He opened his eyes. "I don't know where he is!"

"Calm down, I said!" said Questus. "If your toad really is gone for good, then worrying won't help. Won't help your physical state, either."

Remus breathed. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. He tried to relax.

Awkward silence.

"How's the arm feel?" asked Questus uncomfortably.

"Fine," said Remus. "Could you... didn't it seal with the Dittany?"

"Not fully. Didn't catch it in time. Most of the injury is from the damage that it suffered before I applied the silver and Dittany. Come to think of it, you should probably change out of those robes. I Vanished most of the blood, but it's going to be hard for me to get to your arm. Do you have pajamas in your bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll let you change." Questus left the room, evidently much more trusting of Remus to avoid falling off the bed than Madam Pomfrey had been. Remus was thankful for that. He was already embarrassed enough.

He pulled off his robes as carefully as possible, taking care not to catch them on the dressings. He slid the trousers on as gently as possible, avoiding the partially-healed scratches on his legs. It was more awful than he had seen in a long time. There were teeth marks on his calf, deep lacerations on his thigh, and bruises all up and down his right leg. He remembered running at the wall, trying to break it open. He remembered scratching his forelegs and his back legs, biting into anything that he could, and feeling the blood run down his legs and in his mouth and on the floor and... Remus shuddered. He remembered his emotions at the time, even, and he resented himself for them.

He slid his shirt on and started trying to fasten the buttons. It was very difficult with numb fingers. He fumbled with the button-hole and felt tears coming to his eyes. He had to get this right. He couldn't even get water for himself. He had to do something. For goodness' sake, he had to maintain some dignity...

He heard Questus knocking on the door. "Done yet, Lupin?"

"No!" Remus called, and continued with the button. It was not buttoning. "Stupid button, stupid lycanthropy, stupid Hospital Wing, stupid moon, stupid werewolves, stupid shirt, stupid Hogwarts..."

"I'm going to come in and help you with that button before I crop up in your 'stupid' speech," said Questus dryly. Remus cringed; he hadn't realized that he'd been overheard.

"That won't be necessary," he said as politely as possible, but Questus opened the door anyway. "Sir, I..."

"Let me help," commanded Questus, and Remus looked away. He couldn't stop the tears from falling now. Questus knelt beside his bed to help. "Stop crying. They're only buttons."

"Exactly! They're only buttons! And I can't even do that! I can't do anything! What am I supposed to do?"

"Here," said Questus, who had already buttoned nearly all of them. Remus was jealous at Questus' buttoning abilities in spite of himself. "I'll leave the top two unbuttoned for you. You can amuse yourself with that."

Remus laughed a little. "Sounds like a blast, Professor." Suddenly, he remembered what was visible through the loosely-hanging shirt when the top button wasn't buttoned. He pulled the left shoulder up to his neck and flushed red.

"That the original bite?" asked Questus, still completely tactless.

Remus nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's mighty close to your neck, isn't it?"

"Really? I had no idea." Remus slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, sir."

No Bufo. No Madam Pomfrey. No napping, since he had already done enough of that today. No reading. No magic. What was he supposed to do? Remus lied back and began reciting 'The Walrus and the Carpenter' in his head over and over. And over. And over.

Whoever said that the life of a werewolf was exciting probably didn't know a thing.

AN: My friend just texted me and invited me over for dinner. Yes, right now. As I edit this, it is currently midnight. Who would eat dinner at midnight? That's absolutely ridiculous. Borderline ludicrous. Downright crazy. So, yeah... I'm packing up my things right now and going to dinner at my friend's house.